


Wrong

by wizzardess



Series: Complete Twins [2]
Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Incest, M/M, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 19:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizzardess/pseuds/wizzardess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How can love be wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong

_Wrong_. As I enter the house and my senses are assaulted with the scent of lily and lavender, even though I’ve mentioned every day since the wedding how much I hate the smell of those two flowers. _Wrong_. As she meets me in the living room announcing she’s made my favourite dish for dinner. How could she, when I’ve not told her how to make “Kaulitz Pasta”? She declares _spaghetti_. _Wrong_. Her arms wind around my waist. _Wrong_. Wet lips connecting with my cheek. 

“I love you, baby,” she mumbles. _So wrong_. Her swollen belly pressing into my abs. She’s having a baby. _My_ baby. _Wrong. So very very wrong_. She asks where I’ve been and I tell the truth, Bill’s. That look. That look letting me know she’s unhappy shadows along her features. I’m not positive why she would be unhappy about me spending time with my twin. Jealous? She lets go of me and I follow her through the house, trying not to sniff too heavily. 

_Wrong_. The table is already set. We eat in silence, or she does. I’m not hungry, and I don’t like spaghetti. 

_Wrong_. “We never make love anymore, Tom.” Her hands are warm on my arm as we lie in bed. 

“I’m tired.” She’s hurt, disappointed, upset. And she isn’t afraid to show it. She pulls away from me and I feel the guilt swimming in the room. She’s my wife. _Wrong_. I’m suffocating in the guilt, so I move closer to her. Her belly touches me and I try not to show my emotions about it. I force myself to get closer even though all I want to do is pull away. _Wrong_. 

It’s been six months since I’ve met her. Three months since we’ve been married. And six months since I destroyed my twin by one night of drunken sex with a groupie. _Wrong_ Our clothes come off. Her lips cover mine and I align my body over hers, trying to touch her as little as possible. Her legs spread around me and she’s already wet and anxious. 

_So wrong_. I slide myself inside her even though I’m only half-hard. This was not supposed to happen. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end up. I slip in and out of her, never getting harder. I’m not in love with her. _Oh so very wrong_. She moans and writhes under me searching for release. Her nails dig into my back and I have the urge to be sick. Her belly prevents our bodies from touching completely and for that I’m thankful. Her curves and delicate contours aren’t what I want. The swollen belly of child is not what I want. This isn’t what I need. _Wrong_. 

I think of Bill and that picket fence crumbles. I pull out of her leaving her unsatisfied, as I scramble out of the bed. _Wrong_. I run to the bathroom and retch my half-eaten dinner into the basin. _So wrong_. She stands in the doorway unashamedly naked, just watching me be sick. She knows. 

“Tom, you do realise how fucked up and wrong it is to fuck your brother, right?” I wipe my mouth and face her with the anger she deserves. She looks smug with her arms crossed over her chest. _Wrong_? I want to slap her. She doesn’t know anything about what I share with Bill. What we’ve been through together. “You’re my fucking **husband**.” _Wrong_. 

“Piece of paper.” I reply and push past her in the doorway. I grab clothes from my dresser and inadvertently pull on the shirt Bill loves on me. Baby blue striped polo. I throw on the nearest pair of blue jeans and grab my hoody from the closet. 

“You’re sick.” _Wrong_. 

“I’m in love.” She follows me around as I dress. At least she had put a robe on before following me in my search for my clothes. 

“You’re going to **him** , aren’t you?” She spits her accusations at me like they would influence my decision of leaving. 

“I will never **stop** going to him.” I slam the door behind me and I hear glass shatter against it. I shrug my hoody over my shoulders as I wait for the elevator. _Wrong_? I step inside and hit the button for the basement. 

_How could love be wrong?_


End file.
